Godforsaken
by ImaginaryStories
Summary: A reaction on Daryl's side makes everyone question the nature of his relationship and feelings to Beth. Post 4x16, at Terminus. One shot. M for language.


Daryl Dixon's eyes had at last adjusted to the darkness. He had finally sat down - they all eventually did. He leaned against the metal wall, slowly letting his bruised and battered back slide down, until he was sitting on the hard floor. The breeze of the late summer weather seeping through the cracks of the train car, cooling the air around him.

Nobody knew who the people at Terminus were, or what they would do to them. No one said any of it out loud, but the heavy silence spoke more than loud words.

Daryl was wondering what to do. He had calculated every single possibility without getting very far. Maybe this is how it would all end for them. Nothing lasted forever, he knew that better than anybody else - and in this Godforsaken world, nothing lasted long enough... like the farm... like the prison... like her... Sooner or later, everyone would die and if it was going to be sooner than later, he just hoped it'd all be quick. Not so much for himself, but for the others. He'd hate to see them suffer.

_Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith._ She had told him once. It felt like ages ago.

_'S pointless, _he said to her memory.

He had never been a man of faith. He didn't believe in anything, certainly not in a higher power. _Think sum' God would'a let all this shit happen 'n' not do a damn 'bout it!_ He never had a reason to believe in anything either. He once thought if he ever found his brother alive on that rooftop in Atlanta, maybe there was such a thing as a miracle. But like everything else in his life, all the good things seemed to be a mere illusion and wishful thinking.

He looks around, trying to distract himself from his agonizing thoughts. His gaze falls upon Maggie who is resting her head on Glenn's lap. Daryl averts his eyes, looking elsewhere. Carl was curled up against Michonne's shoulder. Everywhere he looked, he saw the familiar marks of misery.

No one had asked him about her. They didn't know he got out with her. Maybe he'll keep it that way. What was he gonna say to them, anyway? What was he gonna tell Maggie? That he couldn't protect her little sister? That he got shitfaced drunk and yelled at her that she'd never see her family ever again? That he, for some fucking reason, lost his shit for a moment, acting all reckless and stupid, and had opened the door without looking and lost her? _That what ya gon' tell 'em?_

He stares at the dark emptiness, feeling the entire living world's guilt in his chest.

He remembers when everybody had emerged in the light from the darkness, his eyes had been searching for her. But they were met with disappointment and agony.

Maybe - maybe if he hadn't said anything to her, maybe if he hadn't jinxed it… she'd still be here – _somehow_. Maybe - she'd find her way to hi- to _them._

But he _had_ said those words.

And she _wasn't _here with them.

He regrets it. He had regretted it the moment those words had left his lips and slapped her face.

_Sonufabitch!_

He doesn't know how long he had been sitting there, staring into the nothingness, when the train-car door suddenly opened. Having stayed together for a long time had helped them develop a mechanism for nonverbal communication - because all of them quickly hid themselves in the dark spot. They wanted to see the newcomers before they saw them; detect if they were any dangerous.

The light shining blinded Daryl. He saw a female figure enter. She had both her hands above her head, surrendering herself. She was followed by a male figure, who also mimicked the woman. The third figure was another female. Daryl couldn't see their faces, only their silhouette. Something about the third figure made Daryl look closer. Maybe it was the familiar curls. Or her short height. Or her slender physique.

Or the way she took a sharp breath when the metal door shut harshly behind her. He had heard that sharp intake before. It was when he had aggressively yanked her hand, telling her he would teach her how to shoot his crossbow.

Beth.

_Beth!_

His gruff voice barked before he could stop himself. Without realizing, he had already taken a few long strides towards the silhouette.

The soft familiar voice spoke his name timidly. He never thought he would hear that voice again.

Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness yet, but she could feel his presence there in the darkness. First, she only saw a large male figure, then she recognized the disheveled hair, the smell of forest and finally the intense blue eyes. She stepped carefully towards him, scared, as if she would wake up from a dream if she approached him too quick. Or he would evaporate like the soap bubbles she touched when she took a bath, back in the day.

But here she was, standing in front of him, and it was real.

Perhaps once, it was her who had sparked a jolt of hope inside of him, but at this moment, if was Daryl who had done that to her. She thought she had lost him forever.

She reached her hand, resting it against his beating chest. The action caused a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. Before he could react, he heard footsteps and voices coming from behind; they were all anxiously calling her name. He stepped aside as Maggie ran and embraced her sister.

Daryl heard someone sobbing. He looked at them from over his shoulder, and met her eyes. She had her arms around Maggie, but her eyes were locked on his, a pained smile on her cracked lips. He tried to decipher what it meant.

And just like that, he saw it.

He walked towards her, unlocking her arms aggressively from the embrace, and yanked her to himself. Her arms were bruised, her wrists were red from the ropes that had tied them.

"Who did this?" he demanded angrily. Why hadn't she taken care of herself? What had happened to her? _For fuck's sake!_

Nervously, Beth tried to draw her hands back to herself. It was the unintentional glance she cast to the people she had entered the cell with, that made Daryl snap. He was sharply observant.

_Sonufabitch!_ With a low growl, he let go of Beth's hands and walked towards the people she had followed. Daryl realized they were a couple; they were moving backwards, both of them terrified.

"Ya sonufabitch! Imma kill you!" he grabbed the man's collar and threw him violently against the wall, as his right fist landed hard on the man's face. The woman he was with was screaming at Daryl, asking him to let go of the man. Daryl heard all sort of voices crying out his name, he could feel strong sets of hands on his back and arms. They were trying to pull him back.

_Daryl! Let him go! Daryl! Let it go, man! Calm down! Let's talk about this! Daryl! Daryl! Oh God! Someone please stop him! Daryl! Grab his arms! Daryl, stop!_

But all Daryl could hear was Randall's story about what they did to young girls…

All Daryl could see was Joe's group and what they were going to do to Carl…

All Daryl could feel was Beth's bruises on her arms…

He didn't want to recall these things intentionally, but his mind could only focus on those memories.

A force was dragging him backward. He had difficulty moving his arms. He was struggling to get out of the grip, but something was holding him back. With a strangled scream, he used his legs to fight it off. He kicked the man wherever he could, until his kicks were only met with air.

A soft shaky voice called his name. The pair of hands touching his face was equally soft and shaking. The voice was telling him that she was fine. That she was okay. That he needs to stop.

He yanked his arms out of Rick, Glenn and Bob's grip. Beth was still touching his face. He liked that. It was reassuring. For a second, he forgot what had just happened. He remembered the first time Beth had hugged him. In their close proximity, Daryl had caught a whiff of her scent. She had smelt so nice. He couldn't remember what she exactly smelt like, all he could remember was that it was sweet and delicate.

The whimper of the man he had just beaten snapped him out of the momentary bliss. Before he could walk over to the bleeding figure that was lying on the ground, Beth held his bleeding injured hand in hers, pulling him to her and merely shaking her head. He looked around; everybody was alert, looking at him shocked. They were all ready to jump on him any moment again.

Daryl jerked his hand away from Beth's and paced back and forth; he was gnawing at his lower lip, his nostrils flaring of anger. He was contemplating on what to do. The woman was leaning over the beaten body. He could hear he was still conscious. Daryl had never laid a hand on a woman before, but he didn't care about anything that moment. He pushed the woman aggressively aside, yanked the man's bloody shirt and made him sit up.

"Ya so much as look at 'er, Imma rip yer fuckin' eyes out 'n' feed 'em to yer bitch over there, ya hear!?" Daryl's voice was uncharacteristically cool and even, making everybody in the room shiver with fear.

He stood up, not knowing what to do or where to go. He went to the darkest corner the place could offer. He wished he could be alone. But he needed to make sure Beth was okay, after what she had just seen. He needed to make sure Beth wasn't afraid of him. Back when they were still together, he had made a promise to himself that he would never scare her again. Yet another thing he failed to do. He didn't want to terrify her. He just… he just wanted her to be okay. That's all.

He heard faint footsteps reaching him. A small hand on his shoulder, commanding him to face her. For the first time, he took her in. She was still wearing the yellow stained shirt, but her cardigan was gone. Her lower lip had split, there was a small bruise on the right side of her forehead. And her arms. _Her fuckin' arms._

"Just my arms. Nowhere else," She answered his silent question.

She took his right hand in hers, turned it around to examine the injury. The blood was mostly from the victim. She took his black do-rag and gently wrapped his large hand.

He noticed she looked exhausted and was shaking. He didn't know if it was the shock or the cold. Or a combination of both. He slid out of his jacket and vest, draping them on her slender shoulders. He wanted to tell her so many things. He wanted her to know that he had looked for her for as long as he could. He wanted her to know that he didn't abandon her. That he was sorry.

"Beth," Daryl struggled with the words, not knowing how to start, or what to say.

"I know," she replied simply, nodding. "I know."

The rest of the group remained silent. Maggie wanted to go to her sister, but Rick's disapproving head shake had stopped her. He silently told everyone to give them space. None of them knew what had happened between the unlikely pairing that was Daryl and Beth, but something had. A bond they would never fully comprehend.

**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

**:::::::::::::::::**

**::::::::::**

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading, and I'd like to know the reader's favorite line/moment. I don't know why, but I always like to know. Ofc, if there is any! :)**


End file.
